African Diva: An Elegy Among The Ruins
(For Kamaria And Our Sisters)
I hadn't wanted to venture down certain
avenues, exploring startling aspects of
inhumanity and ruin. I hadn't desired
to confront infamy face to face.
I longed for gentler things: your delicate
face illumined by love's tranquility, or
spiritual ecstasy; your sepia arms enfolding
a child. Yet, Mosetta, this century,
of primal savagery, this era of death's
bizarre mockery sickens the soul.
I am awed by your perpetual strength
and certitude. You seem to blossom like
a lotus in mire. Your mellow calmness
inspires miraculous hope--my empress
of a thousand battles, mistress of celestial
vistas, imagination's jasmine diva.
In a grander age, when mystics reigned,
sages would astound the World with tales
of women like you: Sheba, Nefertari, Tiye,
and thousands more. Alas, today, as barbarism
stalks ruined capitals, and life violates
the breath with endless rot, your supreme
virtues are mocked by surly thugs, high on
misogyny's vicious cocaine. And yet,
to aspire towards the ultimate, sublime
Unity of Being, to exalt beauty
and excellence remains a beacon of any
time and place. And, because that striving
heart belongs to a woman of the African race,
the clouded day is suffused with glorious
rays, as we move together, striving always
to resurrect the visionary heart.